


The Art of Legilimency

by duraznero



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Genuine Flirting, Post-Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duraznero/pseuds/duraznero
Summary: Queenie not being able to read Vinda's thoughts made the bond she had with the acolyte into something special, almost sacred.





	The Art of Legilimency

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to Ivett aka @isabellaofparma on Tumblr for being my beta!

Legilimency was a skill pursued by many witches and wizards, the power to read minds and be able to instantly tell truths from falsehoods. Queenie often wondered if any of those people who dedicated time and energy into improving their skills could survive a single day in her shoes. 

She had always known what people thought, ever since she could remember. But everything changed once she grew up and what back in her childhood was a good intuition and knowledge about people became looking into their heads, seeing what they felt, thought and hid from the world.  
And while she could see the use of it, the inability to turn it off had her on the verge of a mental breakdown more often than not as a teenager. There had been many incidents when it overwhelmed her, before she had learned to focus on one person alone or her own thoughts; she would run out of classes at Ilvermorny because everyone was thinking too much and many things at once or on the street where the sheer quantity of people present suffocated her brain. By the time she started working at MACUSA, she had learned to focus on specific people so she could tune out the rest.

Being a natural Legilimens wasn’t just rare, it was _abnormal_ , even for her kind, and children in particular were cruel. Back at school when she would have an outburst, Deirdre O’Shaughnessy and Iska Lagore would call her an insane lunatic, earning her the nickname 'Freakie Goldstein' among those who weren’t sympathetic to her troubles.  
Even Tina, her own sister, showed a surprising amount of abrasiveness towards her problems, getting angry whenever Queenie couldn’t control herself.

“You’re not a child, so please, get it together! You can’t do this, people will feel violated!”

She wondered if it’s ever crossed Tina’s mind that she didn’t want to read everyone’s thought at every moment.  
It wasn’t a gift, it was a curse, as she had told Grindelwald one evening when she had sat all alone past midnight in the conference room, thinking about Tina and Jacob and how they had abandoned or betrayed her, and the man had sat down next to her, sensing her troubles and asked what was wrong.

“Queenie, I fully understand why you believe your powers to be a burden, even if they aren’t. You were never told anything else, and there was never anyone who had the intent of helping you control them, only to help you suppress them; that is not the wise option. The old system doesn’t care about those of us who have abilities that are extraordinary, even for our kind: its priorities lie elsewhere.”

“Yeah, I know. At MACUSA, I had to hold myself together because Tina told me that if I had an episode there, I’d go straight to the wizarding hospital on Staten Island.” She had turned to Mr. Grindelwald then, trying to sound indifferent but she knew her wobbling chin betrayed her, “Have you ever had someone tell you you’re to blame for something you can’t help?”

Mr. Grindelwald’s pale lips turned into a sad smile. “I’m a seer, Queenie. Back in my youth, my visions would plague me and it made me an outsider amongst my fellow students and even in my own family. Whenever something bad happened and I had Seen it before, I was the one to blame," He put his hand upon her shoulder, in the way an old friend would to comfort her, “But we aren’t.”

“Has anyone you loved ever abandon you because of it? Because they thought you’re insane and dangerous?”

To that question, Mr. Grindelwald didn't reply, even if for a brief second Queenie thought she saw his face harden, although it might have been a trick played by the light. 

“Your powers don’t make you a bad person, my child. And now, get some rest. You have gone through many a hardship these last days, you deserve it.”

Queenie had smiled and nodded at that, feeling as if she had been temporarily cleansed of her bad feelings. But only a few days afterwards, she had again been on a low, for a second she even considered leaving Nurmengard Castle and find a way, anyway, to return to Tina and Jacob, to apologize to them, throw herself at their feet while begging for their forgiveness.  
But she knew they wouldn’t let her go, ever, because she knew too much and the price she had to paid was her life if she wanted to return to people so resentful, blind and ignorant. So Queenie turned on her heel as she stood with one hand on the door handle in her bedroom, and went back to sleep. After all, no one at Nurmengard would have ever thought of calling her 'Freakie Goldstein', and she knew that, even though she couldn’t read the majority of the minds belonging to the people who resided there.

Three weeks had passed since then and Queenie had not left the castle’s vicinity yet. Mr. Grindelwald was lying low and preparing before making his next move. Occasionally he would leave but never for more than a few hours at most, so in the castle it was mostly him, Aurelius and Queenie. The acolytes would leave from time to time, often for hours and return in the dead of the night, sometimes for days and bring news from all over the world to their master.  
The boy, she barely saw during the day since Mr. Grindelwald was training him in the basics of magic and how to channel it through his wand instead of uncontrollably having outbursts the intensity of a small bomb, or he was brooding in his room. She would then visit him from time to time as she sensed his need to talk to someone and considering she was often the only one around, it was the obvious choice.  
Mr. Grindelwald too seemed to isolate himself from them, locking himself in his quarters for hours when he was in the castle and even though Queenie had the feeling that if she were to knock, she would be allowed to enter and find out for herself just what exactly he was doing, she never did. She suspected he was conducting magical experiments and finding a way to make his visions visible to an audience.  
Even though it was a topic that no one dared mention, being deprived of the magical hookah which had shown the audience at the cemetery the future he had Seen, was a heavy punch in the gut. The Lestrange woman might have not succeeded in killing him but had nevertheless hit a vulnerable spot. Considering from what she had seen in Newt Scamander’s head about the girl, it came as no surprise to her that she’d be dangerous.

Mr. Abernathy, her former boss, was the easiest by far, but that might have been because she knew him. What surprised her was his loyalty bordering obsession towards Mr. Grindelwald; he practically worshipped the ground their leader walked on! Queenie found it amusing at times to spy into his mind whenever Mr. Grindelwald was talking to his assembled followers about their future moves and it was when Mr. Abernathy was the most emotional that his shields were the weakest.  
He had great gratitude towards Mr. Grindelwald, for showing him that there was more he could do rather than remain a lowly supervisor at the Magical Law Enforcement Office of MACUSA, that there was a way to change the world otherwise, and it was his biggest wish for Mr. Grindelwald to recognize his potential and the utter devotion, that had long ago crossed into infatuation, Mr. Abernathy held for him - but for the latter he was too reserved to ever come clean about.

The boy - no longer Credence Barebone, but Aurelius Dumbledore - was surprisingly difficult at times, but an open book on most occasions. His mind was troubled and dark, full of self-loathing and insecurity, ponderings over his past with an abusive magic-hating guardian and whether he made the right choice joining the cause or not.  
Outstanding was his complete trust in Mr. Grindelwald, that the man was telling him nothing but the truth about his heritage; even though it raised a million questions, many of them with no answers. Why did his relative want to destroy him? Why was he separated from his family in the first place? What would happen if he were to meet Albus Dumbledore? Would he recognize him?  
She had told Mr. Grindelwald that Aurelius was still conflicted over being there, not because he didn’t know his true identity this time but because he didn’t know about everything that came with it. But he had merely told her to give the boy some time, that he would come to the right conclusion all on his own.

Speaking of Mr. Grindelwald, the man himself was a special case. He obviously was an accomplished Occlumens, he had to be, yet Queenie was able to look into his mind with relative ease. She had the feeling, though, that he was very deliberate with what he revealed and what not, but something that with any other person would have been blatant deception, she understood why he did it. He might have plans which he didn’t want exposed before he could realize them, and Mr. Grindelwald was a man who played with his cards close to his chest.  
But what she felt was the trust and kindness he extended to her every time, and it was so earnest that she knew it could never be a lie. This and his true belief in that he was changing the world for the better was what made Queenie trust him, this misunderstood vilified genius who would lead not just wizardkind but all of humanity to greatness.

His acolytes and other residents at Nurmengard on the other hand were blank pages who never let their guard down even once. Whether because they thought exclusively in other languages in addition to using Occlumency, like the Icelandic bounty hunter Mr. Grimsson, or they conjured solid shields to protect themselves against any kind of Legilimency, like the solitary assassin Miss Carrow, it was like trying to break down a solid brick wall.  
Yet, with them in the room, Queenie felt an odd calmness because for once, her mind couldn’t intrude into anyone’s privacy and she was alone with her own thoughts. This must be how “normal” people felt like, she thought the first evening that she sat in the conference room with the acolytes.

 

Winter had already arrived in the mountains, much earlier than she would have expected. It was only the last week of September when the first snow fell, more than Queenie had ever seen, even during winter breaks, up in Ilvermorny. Yet the castle’s rose garden, which Queenie had discovered on her first week and had become the place of choice to go when she wanted some solitude, remained virtually untouched by the cold, the roses still in full bloom and the snow never higher than one foot.

It was long past noon and surprisingly good weather, not a single cloud grazed the light blue sky when Queenie stepped outside and breathed in the fresh mountain air.  
She walked through the arcs on which the rose vines grew and chuckled when she saw three jackdaws playing in the snow. It reminded her how her sister and she would make snow angels and construct ice castles with a wave of their wands on the grounds of Ilvermorny, how Tina always accused Queenie of reading her thoughts so she knew how her castle would look like and Queenie could build a better one.  
The memory made her frown and she walked on, her steps strong enough to chase the birds away, towards her favorite spot. It was a small alcove in which a bench laid hidden in between three huge roses bunches, the perfect place to think about one’s life and also to relax.  
She tied her new coat, much warmer than what she would wear in New York, around her, looked into the alcove - and stopped. True, she never thought of being the only one who knew of this place, but she was nevertheless surprised to see Vinda Rosier sitting on the bench, wearing a long burgundy red coat and didn’t look surprised to see her at all.

“Oh, hello!” Queenie exclaimed and tried to smile, in hopes of masking her disappointment of being deprived of her sanctuary. “I didn’t know you also liked being in the gardens.”

Vinda’s red lips turned into a smirk. “ _Bonjour_ , Queenie,” she greeted, her thick French accent seeping through the words, “Sometimes I come here to think. It clears my head.”

Out of all the acolytes, Vinda happened to be the one who spent the least of her time at Nurmengard. It might have to do with being Mr. Grindelwald’s lieutenant, but it just occurred to Queenie that during the few weeks she had been there, she saw Vinda perhaps a handful of times, and it was always whenever Mr. Grindelwald summoned his high-ranking officers to plan their next move.  
On one occasion, she had joined them for dinner during which she took the seat opposite of Queenie and had merely eaten a plate of food and drunk a glass of red wine before she had returned to her chambers to get some rest. Whenever they saw each other, Queenie would greet her politely and there’d be that mysterious smile on Vinda’s lips as she nodded, and a look on her face that she couldn't place either. They’d exchange a few words, and then Vinda would leave Nurmengard on her master’s request.

She had tried - well, less actively so but rather out of habit - looking into Vinda’s head back when the woman had picked her up from the rainy streets of Paris, to know if she was really trying to help her or had questionable intentions, but she had discovered a completely impenetrable shield around Vinda’s mind.  
When Mr. Grindelwald had stepped into the room, she had felt betrayed and used, but everything was different now. She could see why it had to be done that way, Queenie hadn’t known of his true intentions and she was very grateful things had turned out the way they did. 

But it didn’t change the fact that Vinda’s mind had never, not even for a mere second, been anything but a blank page for her. It didn’t upset her or anything, quite the contrary, she was rather fascinated by it. Meeting Vinda had changed her life and given her the opportunity to fight for something bigger than herself, but on a much more personal level, she had felt at such comfort being with her without involuntarily intruding into someone’s mind and Vinda was the first person, outside of her former job at MACUSA, with whom this had happened.  
This gave the bond between them sacredness, and Queenie treasured it more than anything there at Nurmengard. 

“Really? What a coincidence, that is exactly what I do here too!” Queenie said with a bright smile. Her initial displeasure disappeared in smoke when Vinda chuckled, gave her a once-over and moved over to one side of the bench. 

“Have a seat, do not stand around.” Vinda said and her green eyes shone in the shadows of the alcove. Queenie sat down next to her, still smiling.

“I haven’t seen you around for a few days, where were you?”

Vinda pursed her lips and seemed to consider her answer carefully. “I was sent on a mission to Palermo, to look for sympathizers of our cause.”

“Oh, Sicily! I’m sure the weather is much better than here!” She exclaimed and instantly regretted it, feeling a sudden wave of shame wash over her. She sounded unbelievably shallow and air-headed and Vinda’s raised eyebrow made her aware of it, and when the woman’s lips twitched, she didn’t know if it was in mockery or amusement.

“It really was. I did not have to wear a coat,” Vinda remarked, “but I also had a run-in with the Italian aurors, so I was not as successful as I would have hoped.”

“Oh.” Queenie bit her lip. “You won’t get in trouble for that, will you?”

Vinda looked at her for a few seconds, and Queenie felt the odd occasion that someone was trying to read _her_. “I insisted on taking a mission, during a time when the Aurors are dedicating all their energies to finding us, so I am rightfully to blame, if our leader decides so.”

“But you are his highest-ranking lieutenant!”

“And as such I still follow his commands. Yet, I believe that now is the wrong moment to put our campaign on a temporary halt. Our leader disagrees but he is letting me approach potential allies to our cause nevertheless, because if he is wrong, he will have new opportunities with my approach.”

Queenie blinked. The fact that a leader admitted to potential wrongdoings seemed so outlandish to her and the complete opposite of the Modus Operandi at MACUSA that it almost made her back away from the acolyte. 

“That’s weird. Not weird in the sense,” she hurried herself to say when Vinda gave her a skeptical look, “that it’s bad, but very…different from what I’m used to.”

Vinda smiled. “Gellert Grindelwald is a man unlike any others, and that includes his style of leadership.”

Queenie nodded slowly and realized that it was the first time she had heard someone refer to Mr. Grindelwald with his first name. “I noticed.” She looked at her hands, gathering courage before asking a question that had been on her mind for some time now. “When did you join him?”

Vinda didn’t seem taken aback by the question, in fact she leaned back and crossed her long legs. “Many, many years ago, he was invited by a family friend to my hometown of Avignon. I had just finished my education, and we discovered we share many of the same opinions, especially concerning the relationship between the _Non-Magique_ and us, so when he left to explore the world, there was no one and nothing could have kept me from leaving with him.”

“That sounds… rather romantic.” Queenie said vaguely, and was surprised to see Vinda widen her eyes and trying to stifle a laugh. “Sorry, I-, I didn’t mean to say that- y’know, you-” she stumbled over her own words multiple times and averted her gaze to her boots when a chuckle escaped Vinda nonetheless.

“You are hilarious, _Mademoiselle_ Queenie.”

“Oh, don’t make fun of me!” Queenie suddenly spat, feeling anger in her chest and her face suddenly burning, and stood up from the bench. The hand that wrapped around her wrist stopped her from walking out of the alcove though, and she turned back to see Vinda looking at her with something in her expression that might have been apologetic.

“I am not making fun of you. Please don’t believe I am insulting you,” she said softly and something in the way she said it made Queenie sink back onto the bench.

“God, I’m… I don’t know if you aren’t.” Queenie let out a sigh. “You surely think I’m nothing but a stupid airhead, but are too nice to say it.”

Vinda tilted her head slightly. “I do not think you are stupid at all. Curiosity is not stupidity,” she said firmly, “and you know what is best for us Wizards too, you see why we have to change society fundamentally and-” she hesitated for a moment, bit her lip and caught herself again “pursue freedom. No one who knows this is stupid.” 

Her eyes locked with Queenie’s and in that moment Queenie wished more than anything to be able to look into Vinda’s head and see if what she meant was true, to have nothing but confirmation that Vinda really didn’t think she was an naive idiot whose powers were a hazard. But she could never find out, so she had to simply trust Vinda - something that came surprisingly easy to her.

“Thank you, Vinda.” She smiled earnestly, took Vinda’s hand in hers and squeezed it. 

“You have a lot of potential, Queenie. Do not let it go to waste; your powers are not a curse.”

Queenie opened her mouth to say something and shut it again when no word came out. How did she even know? Was Vinda breaking their unspoken bond by in turn reading her mind? Had it all been one-sided from the beginning? The betrayal burnt in her chest for a moment until Vinda spoke her next words.

“Our leader told me about your troubles concerning Legilimency. If you want to, I can teach you how to improve your focus under unusual circumstances, especially in moments of extreme emotional distress.” Vinda leaned forwards and at this closeness Queenie thought she could smell a decent note of perfume from her. “I believe that you can be the best version of yourself, and I want to help you become that.”

“I- I don’t know what to say-” Queenie began after several moments and felt blood rush into her face. 

“Then do not say anything,” Vinda interrupted her softly and gave her a charming smile which made Queenie blush even more.

There was a long-stretched silence in which neither women said anything and just sat in comfort next to each other, until Vinda stood up and held out her hand to Queenie. 

“Would you like to join me on a walk through the gardens?”

Queenie smiled and put her hand in Vinda’s gloved one. “Of course, I’d love to.”

 

Their arms hooked together, they walked through the gardens, which the more they spent time there appeared to be more of a maze than Queenie had registered. Vinda told her of the enchanted yew hedges which changed positions and sometimes purposely let you walk in circles. Upon Queenie’s hesitant remark that this had already happened to her and it was why she avoided the hedges, Vinda let out a light laugh and touched Queenie’s arm gently.

“I should really show you around the entire castle properly, it would be a shame if you get lost for real.”, she mused.

“Oh, Mr. Grindelwald told me about the parts of the castle open to me and those that aren’t, and had Mr. Abernathy show me around. What’s wrong?”

At the mention of Mr. Abernathy, Vinda’s nose crinkled for a split second.

“You are very observant, _Mademoiselle_ Queenie. I merely thought that Calvin could have done a better job, considering how much he aims to please, but -” she shrugged “- I guess we have to accept him even with his flaws. Otherwise he is very dedicated to our leader, and of course to our cause as well.” The amused tone in her voice made Queenie wonder if she also read Mr. Abernathy’s mind at times, and she wouldn’t have been surprised at all if that was the case. Just as the thought crossed Queenie’s mind, Vinda stopped at one of the rose bushes and let go of her arm.

“The roses are enchanted as well; they bloom all around the year. My family used them in remedies and potions, we grew them all around Avignon for generations.”

“The _Rosiers_ grew _roses_? That’s a fun coincidence.” Queenie mused.

“Yes, that is how we got our last name too. It means ‘rose bush’ in French. I like the sound of yours too: _Goldstein_. ‘Golden’ and ‘stone’ - royalty and strength.”

“Yeah, it’s Jewish - my dad’s parents came from Germany.”

Vinda reached into the pockets of her coat, took out her wand and made a quick slashing movement, cutting off one of the roses of the bush. Instead of falling onto the ground, the flower floated in the air and when Vinda reached out, it slowly flew into her hand. She turned towards Queenie and gave it to her. As she took the flower, Queenie felt her heartbeat quicken and stared at it.

She was sure that in any place in the world, being given a flower was a romantic gesture, especially when it was a red rose. On multiple occasions she had been given red roses, by men who tried to court her and in the latest instance by Jacob, who had bought a whole bouquet of red roses as a surprise for her one evening.  
She knew the implications of Vinda, a _woman_ , doing so, were not natural, she _knew_ she should recoil or tell Vinda off, but she did no such thing. It was as if her tongue had frozen in her mouth from the cold, and she merely had her eyes fixed on the flower, avoiding to look at Vinda.  
Because once she thought about it, she wouldn’t mind this rose being a romantic gift at all, and this made her feel angry at herself, for not disliking the notion of it. She took a deep breath and said “Thank you.” hoping that her voice sounded steady and wasn’t shaking.

Vinda took her arm again, and she didn’t know whether she should shake her off, because if she liked the warmth of the other woman so close next to her, how could it be wrong? Somehow, Vinda seemed to sense that something was wrong because she looked at her over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

“Would you like for us to return to the castle? They are going to serve food soon, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh, if you want to. I-” Queenie sighed, “Yes. Let’s go back. It’s cold and I’m hungry.” She took a deep breath and looked up into Vinda’s eyes, and again she wished she would be able to read her like she read everyone else, to know what exactly she was thinking and whether she was drawing the right conclusions. She didn’t want to drift apart from Vinda just because she misinterpreted something from her and if she wasn’t… she didn’t know if she minded if it was like that.

“Then let us return. I would hate for you to get sick or starve.” The amused tone in her voice was still there, her steps a bit quicker, almost too quick for Queenie who nearly tripped in the snow and only didn’t fall because she was still holding onto Vinda’s arm.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” The concern in Vinda’s voice couldn’t be faked, neither the tilt of her head as she looked at Queenie.

“Yes. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Very well.” When they started walking this time, it was slower, as if Vinda was worried she would trip again. They walked in silence next to each other and Queenie was sure that one could hear the thoughts in her head even without Legilimency.

Vinda was nice. Very nice, actually, but she never thought about the possibility that Vinda might like her in the same way Jacob would. The more she thought about it, the less she thought it bad or even odd, but she would have never thought she’d find herself in this situation. Sure, she had female co-workers think relatively loudly about her attractiveness, but for Queenie this had always been the same as when the men had done so. With Vinda, on the other hand, it felt strangely personal.  
Of course, she knew about bars and places where women bought drinks for other women, some of them looked just like normal ladies while others dressed like gentlemen. They were the subject of crude jokes between her co-workers, both at the nature of their bizarreness but also at the hatred the No-Majs displayed towards them and men who preferred the company of men. She didn’t find the jokes particularly funny back then, but now they were downright hypocritical.

_As if you’re that much different. Disgust at two women being in love, disgust at a Wizard and a No-Maj being in love; it’s basically the same if you strip it down to the bones._

She sneered in anger and involuntarily tightened her grip on Vinda’s arm, who shot her a surprised look.

“Yes?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize-” Queenie began, but then shook her head, “I was just thinking about something.”

“You are very thoughtful today.” Vinda remarked and slowed their steps. When Queenie looked up, she realized they stood in front of the door back into the castle.  
With a wave of her wand, Vinda made the door swing open and they left the dry coldness of the gardens and entered a corridor in the West Wing of Nurmengard. Instantly Queenie felt the warmth seep into her bones and she opened the buttons of her coat. When she moved her hands to the scarf she had put around her neck, hands gloved in black leather arrived there first and Vinda leaned forwards to unwrap it.

“So... “, Queenie began and she did so without even registering she was speaking at all, “Are you and Mr. Grindelwald, y’know, lovers?”

Vinda stopped abruptly and for a moment she looked at Queenie with utter confusion written all over her face. Queenie’s hands almost went to her mouth when she realized what she had asked but stopped when the amused smile reappeared on Vinda’s lips.

“I thought I had answered this question sufficiently. But no, we are not, and have never been. Let’s say; we aren’t each other’s type.”

“So you’re not into blondes?” Queenie asked, almost innocently, but she felt as if she was painfully obvious. But of course, saying something along the lines of ‘Are you into men at all?’ was more than just a bit indecent.

Vinda’s green eyes didn’t leave her blue ones while she took the scarf off Queenie’s neck, gently folded it and put into Queenie’s hands. Then she reached out and for a moment Queenie thought she’d stroke her cheek, but instead she took a curl that had fallen out of place and curled it around her index finger.  
The green eyes went to the streak of blonde hair as if it was the most interesting thing in the whole world and when they went back to Queenie’s, it was as if the inches of free space between were burning and any movement could set off a spark that would set them aflame.

“I like them just fine.” Vinda said, her voice low and Queenie had the sudden wish to bridge the closure between them, just to try something out - when Vinda took a step back, wearing a mischievous grin.

“I thought you were starving?” She asked, her tone light as a feather. When Queenie didn’t reply and only opened her mouth to close it again, she chuckled to herself and motioned to Queenie to follow her through the corridor.

Queenie took a deep breath and looked at the scarf placed neatly into her hands. She was still trying to compose herself, and as she took off after the French acolyte, she attempted to figure out whether she had gotten the answer she had hoped for to her question.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and criticism are, as always, more than welcome!


End file.
